


Sine Qua Non

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [9]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Flashback, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back when the boy who became Kylo Ren left his old life behind, his relationship with his best friend Poe Dameron was very different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sine Qua Non

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



Kylo Ren is his name, now. Kylo. Knight of Ren. His former names stripped from him (which was fine, really, because even Darth Vader himself had lost the _Skywalker_ , and B– _Kylo_  had the names of a traitor to the Jedi, a family of adoptive non-Sensitives, and a non-Sensitive asshole of a flyboy. Ren isn’t even really a surname, it’s like - like a title. But in reverse. After, instead of before. 

He still sort of wishes the Leader believed in the Sith doctrine, but the Leader knows more, so Kylo has to listen.

Mostly. After all, he only agreed to come over on one condition. He’d been terrified that the Leader would refuse his demand, and he’d practised it in his head over and over and over.

Turned out, though, that the Leader heard his drills, so he didn’t even need to lead with ‘on one condition’. 

“Why do you want the boy?”  


_Because he is my best friend. Because he is the only person I trust. Because we do everything together. Because he makes me feel safe. Because he is smart and brave and kind and giving. Because I think I’m falling **in** love with him, not just loving him. Because._

“You said emotion was the core of the Dark Side,” he’d replied, instead. Certain the Leader could hear all his unconscious train of need, even without his tongue voicing it. “I want him.”  


“Why?”  


Why? Why what? Why did gravity pull things back down? Why did sound bend around a corner, but Light needed a mirror to do the same? Why did the same food taste better when you stole it in the night? He might as well have asked any of those questions, instead. 

“He makes me stronger,” he’d settled for, with a proud lift of his chin and a defiant flash in his eyes that said _this is it, we’re a package deal, you can’t split us up, and if you try then I will get my uncle to hunt you down and kill you anyway_. “And he’s the best pilot, ever. I need someone to get away from here with, and he will be great for your Order.”  


For whatever reason, the Leader had relented. And Kylo Ren got to ‘keep’ Poe Dameron. Though really, it’s not like that. Kylo is sort of okay with ordering other people about in his mask and hood, but he didn’t bring Poe over to be his slave, or anything.

He brought him over because he needs him. He needs him like air.

***

They try to be discreet, they do. Even though some know that Poe was the non-negotiable element of his ‘fall’, his defection, they don’t want rumours to abound. However, they’re both adolescents, and they haven’t really learned discretion as a skillset, not really.

Kylo spends all the time he can with Poe. Poe applies himself furiously to the Order’s ideals, or… more properly, to their flight skills and other training programs. He volunteered as soon as he got on the Star Destroyer, and proceeded to smash all records in a gratifyingly obnoxious fashion.

Probably everyone knows that the Knight of Ren joined the ship’s complement in the company of Poe. They can’t claim it’s some nepotism advancing him through the ranks when they _see_ his prowess first-hand. It’s that, and Poe’s easy charm, that gets him accepted.

Kylo actually… envies it. Somewhat. The troopers are not really known for their camaraderie, and yet… there’s Poe. Walking into a room, making everyone fall for him. _Dangerous_ , he thinks. _You’ll be noticed_. And he is, but… he’s not… his head isn’t chopped for poking over the parapet. He’s _lauded, promoted, praised._ Kylo worries in case it’s some elaborate, long-game **trap** , but there is no reason to split them up.

They came together, they would leave together, or burn the place down if they were ever parted. Surely the Leader knows that?

***

Kylo has his own rooms, but he’s convinced they’re under deeper scrutiny. Maybe he’s paranoid, maybe he’s just safety-conscious enough to survive. They never go there. They always go to Poe’s, and Kylo sneaks past uniformed heads that turn the other way. Some he doesn’t even have to manipulate, some just do it out of courtesy. 

He appreciates that.

It’s better now Poe has somewhere of his own, and doesn’t have to share. Kylo’s so proud of him, and Poe is proud of Kylo, and even if - even if sometimes there’s things Kylo would rather not happen in his own training… they’re together. Which the Jedi wouldn’t allow. The voice leaves him mostly in peace, and he has Poe, and if he has to make some sacrifices for that, he’s prepared to do it.

Kylo never removes his helmet until they’re in Poe’s room, because it’s against the Leader’s rules. He’s probably not supposed to take it off in front of Poe, but the other boy has known him since they were skinning knees in forests, and getting messy in piles of leaves and washing it all off in the lake. 

Poe followed him because Kylo needed to feel safe. He followed him - against his family’s legacy - just because Kylo _asked_. And Kylo just… he’s so grateful. He’d been so afraid, for so very, very long. The insidious whispers, the failure to focus under his uncle’s tutelage, the ravages of a body growing fast… he’d confessed it all, one night. Almost didn’t dare. Almost.

And Poe had held him, and stroked his hair and back, and K- B- _he_ \- had felt… _better_. Poe had never judged him, though he’d been worried about him. And when he’d paced like mad in front of him - weeks later - told him the whole damn _ultimatum_ \- he’d - he’d…

They were here. Out of their depth, maybe. Rising meteorically fast, most assuredly. On the road to wonderful (or terrible) things, no doubt in the galaxy. In love?

Yeah. Yep. Very much so.

Their first kiss had been under the stars, before they ran away. Ben - he’d been Ben, then - Ben had been so pleased that Poe had said _yes_ that he’d grabbed him and kissed him and then realised what he’d done. They’d stayed close, while Ben tried to work out if he’d broken it, if he’d misread it, but Poe had cupped his face in his palm, stroked his stubble-free childish cheek and arched up the short distance between their growing bodies to kiss him again. Soft, sweet, perfect.

And since then, they’ve stolen kisses whenever they can. Here: in Poe’s room. Outside, he has to be Kylo, Knight of Ren. In here, he can be… Kylo… teenage boy. Teenage boy, madly in love with his best friend. Who is madly in love with him. 

He steps in through the door, and it closes behind him. Poe - many inches shorter, now - walks in close. He puts a hand on his chest, and then unclicks the clasps in his helm. Pulls it off, and tosses it onto the bed. Poe, whose fingers run through his hair, releasing it from the static and teasing it back to wild like it used to always be. Poe, who slides a hand around the back of his neck and bends Kylo slightly, so their lips can meet. 

“Missed you,” he whispers, and Kylo melts.  


***

Kylo sort of knows why they’re waiting. Sort of. He knows Poe is conscious of their age difference, but he’s a Dark Jedi and he’s powerful and he’s feared and respected and… totally, utterly, completely whipped.

He is. Poe is the one to put the brakes on, or to take them off. Kylo would have thrown himself onto Poe bodily by now if he hadn’t been gently held back when he tried to make a move. 

Because he’s wanted to for a while, now. And he hasn’t cared that technically it’s _against Republic rules_ , on account of the whole _let’s overthrow the Republic_ , but apparently Poe has his principles, and he’s sticking to them. Their make out sessions have gotten as far as hands in hair, and on shoulders and knees, and no more. Poe always finds some way to slowly wind them back down again, and it’s _hell_. It is. It’s _hell_. Kylo’s been having filthy dreams and seeing to his ‘problem’ multiple times a day. It’s just a _number_ , and it’s not like he hasn’t made a bigger decision by **running away to join the Dark Side with him** , but Poe… Poe’s convinced they wait, so he has to wait.

When his birthday comes, he’s excited. He thinks they probably get to - get to - right? He’s old enough. They’ve been ‘together’ (as much as the Order allows) for months and months, and Kylo knows with all the certainty his little heart can muster that it’s _Poe_. It’s Poe. He’s met his soulmate, and he wants no one else. And Poe loves him, and everything else melts into insignificance with a whiplash-strong finality.

Poe. He loves Poe. His bastard boyfriend who won’t let him touch higher than his knee, and who keeps telling him he wants it to be _special_. Special. Like doing _it_ one day early would have killed h– Kylo panics, suddenly, that Poe might _not_ be ready tonight. Might think they need to wait more. Or - wait - is he… does Poe not want it, too? Is that why he keeps putting it off? Has he been putting Poe under undue pressure, and–

He opens the door to Poe’s room and finds his pilot already waiting for him. There’s - he’s - 

He’s got some kind of oil lamp thing, burning a low light. Smart, Kylo can’t help but think. Candles would set off the smoke detector, possibly? Whereas the covered oil lamp likely won’t. He’s pulled out the table and thrown over a tarpaulin sheet as a tablecloth. The pillows from the bed have been adopted as seats beside the low table, and he’s scraped together enough contraband to get his ass kicked straight to reconditioning.

“…sorry it’s nothing special. I’m still only in officer training, and they don’t let me–”  


Kylo doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that his own rooms are (stupidly) three times the size, and have real chairs and tables and that he can get most of the things Poe’s scraped without batting an eyelid. It’s not the _things_ , it’s the effort, the care. He grabs Poe and tries to kiss him, smashing his faceplate into his lips, then blushing like mad when he realises he totally lost it and tried to kiss him through his mask.

“Ow,” Poe laughs.   


“…you outdid yourself,” Kylo says, as Poe pulls his helmet off and goes through that familiar ritual of stroking his hair, his face, his shoulders.   


“Yeah, well. Not every day you become an adult. And I remember what you did for me.”  


Kylo had gone all out. He didn’t actually have - _Ben_ hadn’t actually had - much of an allowance, even considering his family. Something about learning the value of things, or some nonsense. So he’d scrimped and saved and bought Poe _the_ best helmet you could buy, right from the same suppliers who the Republic used. And then he’d managed to convince his Dad to let Poe fly the _Falcon_ for–

No. Don’t think about that, not now. That was another life.

They move to sit on the pillows, and Kylo has to fold his legs with care to get into the narrow place. He feels… he feels kind of half like an adult, half like… like a student? A real one. Not one of the dumb Jedi arts, but the life that most kids got to have. Off, somewhere, having adventures and learning about the world instead of their topics of choice. It’s some bizarre hinterland between the two, and it makes his stomach trip over. Even if they - you know - _don’t_ \- this is pretty damn amazing, anyway.

Cookies. He got cookies. And they’re the good ones, too, the ones they always used to raid the jar for, and then wipe their sticky fingers on their pants and pretend they hadn’t been eating them (even though it was obvious to everyone in the room they had). There’s also a small bottle of wine, which Kylo has only ever had a single (very small) glass, with a meal, before. He doesn’t know if the bottle is enough to get them drunk, but he suspects not. There’s cured meats, and there’s a small cheese. It’s really not the most together of buffets, but Kylo would take sitting cross-legged on the floor with some slightly stale cookies over any formal state dinner with endless bureaucracy any day.

They sit and eat, and Poe tells him all about this new manoeuvre he’s mastered, and Kylo tells him about the new Knight. It’s an easy closeness, and Kylo actually forgets it’s his birthday before long. They just talk like they normally do, and they agree that wine tastes weird, but it’s drinkable, and when they’re finished… when they’re finished, Poe holds up his hand.

“I… got something for you.”  


Kylo thrills with anticipation, hands on the arches of his feet, rocking back and forth. “What is it?”

“It’s… hang on…”  


A rustle, and he holds out a badly-wrapped mess. Kylo smiles, and pulls it open. It’s… oh. A memory tree, isn’t it? He saw one in the Dameron family house, once, and asked about it; carved from a wood that means something to the owner - or owners - and forged into a small, stable miniature representation of the tree it came from. Etchings scored into the wood, trinkets strung from the branches, over the years, representing someone’s life, or a shared one… Kylo holds it tight, and his eyes gleam when he lifts them.

“For us,” Poe says, quietly. “If you want.”  


A joint memory tree. Of course he wants one. He wants Poe in his life, wherever they are, whatever they do. He wants Poe, in any way he can have him. He grabs his shirt, and kisses the cheese-and-cookies crumbed lips, purring in happiness. 

***

Kylo is pleased to find out that heavy make-out sessions are still on the cards. The table and remnants of their little celebration are toed to the side of the small room, and Poe brings down the comforter and makes a little nest for them. The comforter goes down, and then the pillows prop up against the side of the cot where it reaches the floor. The bed itself is designed only for _one_ , and so this is a necessary evil. Poe lies alongside him, and Kylo plays with Poe’s gorgeous hair as they kiss. It’s dumb and fluffy and Kylo can’t help but absolutely adore it. Tongues slip back and forth, and Poe does that nibbly thing on his lip, and Kylo’s foot thumps the floor in low bliss. 

There’s a careful hand on his waist, somewhere along the line. A warm, reassuring heat that makes Kylo’s blood burn with sudden, nervous need. It stays there, and Kylo wants it to. Or to move. But not away. He doesn’t know how to ask, so he puts his hand on Poe’s wrist. The older boy tries to pull away, but Kylo grips him more, presses his hand down, and then edges it up and over his flank, then down to his waist and then almost to his butt. It’s a wordless request and permission in one.

Poe breaks their kissing exchange, head propped on his other hand, eyes tracking over his face. “You sure?”

“I am. I am. I… want you.”  


“I don’t want you to think I’m–”  


“What? Pressuring me, when I’ve been trying to convince you for months?”  


“Yeah, but you might think you _have_ to. And you don’t.”  


“But I want to. If… if you do.”  


Poe bites his own lip, and his eyes flicker down as he nods. “I do.”

“Then… _do_.”  


More kisses for courage, and Poe plucks at his robes, working through the heavy-weave and searching for clasps, buttons, fasteners. It’s not an easy outfit, but Kylo’s also feeling a little nervous about this, so slow isn’t bad at all. He’s wanted to do _more_ for so very long, but now he worries he won’t be appealing enough, or he won’t enjoy it enough, or… he’s not even sure. 

What if they don’t like it? What if he’s terrible? What if Poe tries it, and then decides he doesn’t like Kylo any more? What if it ruins everything? 

“Kylo?”  


“It’s okay.”  


“No… Ky…” Poe pauses, and his thumb rubs circles where he’d been trying to disrobe him. “I don’t wanna push you into anything.”  


“You’re not.” He really wasn’t. “It’s me.”  


“…you?”  


“…I wanted this for so long and you didn’t and now I worry you don’t want to or maybe I won’t want to after, and I–”  


Poe stems the flow of words with a kiss, taking Kylo’s face in one hand and swallowing his protests. “I want. But only if you want. I don’t want if you don’t, and I _do_ want, if you do.”

“…that barely makes sense.”  


“To me it does. I’d be interested, but only if you were just as interested. It’s not like I know what I’m doing, either. It would be my first time, too.”  


Kylo squirms. Okay. Sort of. “I think I want to try, I’m just worried we’ll screw it up.”

“You think I’m not?” Poe leans in, kisses the tip of his nose. “I’m _terrified._ But you’re worth the fear, and seeing if we can have that or not. If we can’t, or we don’t like it, we tried, right?”  


“…but what…”  


Poe crooks a finger under his chin. “Tell me?”

Kylo does not want to, not at all. But… he has to. “…will you stop loving me if I don’t like it? Or… or… find someone else?”

The pilot laughs, pushing his face into Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo is mortally offended, until Poe looks at him with streaming eyes. “You _nerf_. I love you so much I came **here**. You think I’m gonna stop loving you if we turn out not to be any good at - that?”

“…maybe?”  


“Kylo. Kylo… if we never even kissed again, I’d still follow you to Hutt space and back, every day, for the rest of our lives. Okay? So…”  


“Okay.”  


“You wanna just kiss and cuddle?”  


“…yeah. I… yeah.”  


“Okay. We do that. And… we keep doing that. Until we both feel ready, some day, for more.”  


Kylo smiles, and barrels himself into Poe’s arms. Maybe he isn’t ready, after all.

***

Eventually, the kissing and cuddling and stroking becomes just another part of their private world. The one no one knows about, or not really. Kylo finds he really enjoys the soft touches, and the closeness of sharing breath. He finds he likes the fingers in his hair, and the pressure and warmth of a thigh against his own. He feels **safe** , here. Safe with Poe. No matter what happened outside, no matter what he had to do, or what people said or thought… here? An oasis of calm and security, of love and acceptance.

His only worry is that the Leader will know, and will try to take it from him.

So he does everything he can to be the best Knight there ever was, so there’s no question of his loyalty and commitment. So there’s no need to punish him, and so he can keep his pilot safe.

***

One night, they’re in the middle of some very heavy petting and Kylo decides it’s time. He doesn’t know why tonight, and not any other night, but he feels the _yes_ in his head, and he pushes Poe back against the bulkhead his cot lies against, and he lifts his leg and straddles his lap. A question in his eyes, and Poe’s smile sort of breaks his heart. 

Two hands on his hips, and he goes back to kissing. He’s taken the first step, but he isn’t going to push the matter. They both agreed they _both_ had to want it, and that’s the important thing. His head swims when he feels his looser, lower layers being peeled away from his skin. He tends to shuck down to just shirt and pants and boots when he gets here, and sometimes they touch under clothes, but just careful caresses. That’s how it starts, then both hands slide over the front of his chest and it **is agony** wherever he touches. Kylo grabs Poe’s shoulders for purchase as thumbs slide over his nipples. He whimpers at the electric feel of it, and drops to sink his teeth into Poe’s earlobe to take out some of his frustration. Poe rubs tight circles, and Kylo finds himself grinding into his lap, hiccuping and wanting.

Definitely ready. If Poe is ready. Definitely want to take it at least a little further, because then there’s lips and teeth against his neck and he’s groaning like a wanton and baring his throat for more. Fierce little suckles that are like Force-lightning applied straight to wet skin, and he is _so_ glad his clothing covers everywhere, because as he holds Poe’s face in position for more, he’s sure there’ll be little marks come morning. 

“Love you,” Kylo mumbles, as he tries to get Poe’s shirt off. “So much.”  


Poe says something into his neck, sending fresh heat flooding through him, and then he lets Kylo pull his shirt off. Only because Kylo’s goes the same way, and then they’re both topless, and other than brief snatches, Kylo hasn’t seen Poe like this in a long time.

He doesn’t remember him looking much different, or maybe it’s just that because they grew up together all along he always just sees Poe as slightly older than he is, now. He’s filled out nicely, all toned planes and that sungold skin of his that Kylo adores. He places pale hands in a heart shape around Poe’s own, and then realises what he’s done and catches Poe smiling. 

“I love you, too. You maniac.”  


Kylo beams. “Shut up and kiss me.”

The kisses mean this time Kylo can lean against Poe’s chest, skin to skin, and it’s nice and just… close. Close. He feels the tendrils of the Force weave them tighter together, and he wants to laugh into the kiss as their connection grows. He all but _smells_ of Poe, by now, and the other Knights likely bitch about their relationship, and Kylo doesn’t care.

So far, this seems to mostly be about hands and mouths touching more places, and feeling better. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it right, but they both seem to be enjoying it, so that has to be the answer, right? His dick is so hard, so very hard. Harder than when he wakes from dreams about his dark-haired sun-god. He can feel the answering hardness in Poe’s lap, and he awkwardly rubs against it, wondering what they do about that? He saw the basic sex-ed holos years ago, then he tried a few searches on the holonet, but he hadn’t really found the pornos interesting, and the guides had all been too clinical. 

He reaches a hand between them, finding the bulge and rubbing at it. He knows what makes _him_ feel good, so it should be the same, right? 

Poe makes a garbled noise, and grabs his wrist. 

“…bad?”  


“ **No**. No. Not bad.” Poe clarifies after the briefest moment, and Kylo’s heart starts beating again. Or stops in a good way.

“Good?” he asks, archly.  


“ _Yeah_.” Then Poe’s wrist crosses his, and he slips fingers around Kylo’s chubby pants-front, grinding his heel into his trapped cock, pinching and squeezing with his fingers.  


Kylo wonders how he ever thought they might be _bad_ at this. Poe loves him, and he loves Poe, and they both are in this for the other as much as themselves… of course it would be wonderful. Maybe awkward and clumsy, but still _wonderful_. He struggles with the zipper and the cloth, pushing things away until Poe’s cock salutes him proudly from the fabric-rucked mess of his lap. 

He has seen it, of course. They grew up together, and shame goes somewhere along the line. It comes back when the nervy growing-pains time comes, but it goes right back out the window when you realise you _love_ your best friend, and your best friend _loves you_ , and that you can get your respective tackles out and touch them and not worry about anything other than coming too soon.

Which would just be Kylo’s luck.

But he’s seen it like, years ago. And not like this. Back then he barely looked other than that curiosity everyone had as a child, and once that had been sated it had just been part of Poe. Now, though… well. For one thing, now it’s flush and firm, poking out of the dark curls with glorious intent. Kylo takes a moment to appreciate it before he looks up at Poe. “How… uh…?”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Poe says, his own fingers opening Kylo’s pants up, too.   


Kylo doesn’t know for certain. He thinks he’d like to try sucking it sometime, and also - well. He’s harboured certain fantasies about having it _inside of him_ , but he’s not brave enough to do that just yet. He also would like to try the other thing, and - well - **everything**. Just not today. “Is hands okay?”

“You could use your feet and I’d love it,” Poe replies, his cheeks also pink.  


“…maybe next time,” Kylo quips, weakly, and spits in his hand. Spits in it, and then wraps it around Poe’s shaft.  


For a moment, Poe just sits back and looks drunk with it, hands grabbing at Kylo’s thighs as his head thunks into the wall, and he can’t buck up because Kylo’s sitting right on top of him. He groans from his belly up, and Kylo loves seeing the creases around his eyes, the poke of his tongue, the feel of him happy and hungry. Loves.

“Damn… you feel so good. So good, babe. So damn good. Oh…”  


Encouraged, Kylo reaches his other hand to join in, twisting and twirling both up and down his cock, then sliding one after the other from root to tip. Poe grabs his elbows and the words leave his mouth… before he finds his second wind. He laces one hand between Kylo’s arms, and the other outside, so they’re tangled together. Then he grabs for Kylo’s own cock, echoing his gestures with almost perfect mirror symmetry.

Which is _unfair_. It then feels like Kylo’s jerking Poe off, and himself. Or something. It gets messy and confusing, and he finds himself moving or adjusting to show Poe what he wants. He likes to press just under the crown, and he likes to pinch near his balls, and he likes to smack the head of his dick into a palm.

“ _Maker_ , where did you learn that?” Poe asks.  


“Self-discovery,” Kylo answers, honestly.   


“You… damn. I just tried holos and lotion. No wonder it didn’t feel as good.”  


Kylo _beams_. He’s better than Poe’s attempts to please himself? That’s freaking spice to his palate. Admittedly the whole situation is a million times better than his own desperate, lonely sessions thinking about his pilot, but that’s… that’s…

Poe takes some initiative, then, and he nudges hands away until he can manhandle them both. He holds his cock in front of him, and gets Kylo to shift to do the same. They nestle side by side, and then Poe’s got one hand around them and is stroking. Kylo puts his hand there, too, curling from the other side like a handshake around their cocks. Their fingers interlace, and then Poe pulls him in for kisses as they stroke each other against one another.

Kisses. He loves those kisses. They’re messier, bitier, sloppier… and he loves that, too. Loves the way a tongue fucks his mouth open and licks out his moans of bliss. Loves the rising need to _finish,_ and he does. He does. He’s surprised he held out this long, and he hopes Poe is close, too. 

Maybe he should have said something before his climax hit, but he couldn’t think. One moment it was teasinggoodyespleasemore, the next it was _toomuchtoomuchohMakerI’m_ – and he splashes like mad as Poe keeps guiding both their hands over the two pricks. It feels so great, so much better than the empty cold aftertaste of doing it to himself, and Poe hasn’t even let go of their two cocks. One had the come massaged out of it, the other is still–

Kylo wants to do it. He wants to do it. He’s covered in his own come, tired and shaking from the come down of such an intense climax, but he wriggles off and drops to his knees at the side of the cot. He grabs Poe’s firm thighs, urging him closer, and shoves his face into his crotch. He smells and tastes of Kylo’s own climax, on top of those smells and tastes of his own. Kylo likes the two mixed together, and he starts to lick the splatter first, then wraps his lips around the head and wiggles his tongue. It tastes fine, no horrible part of it at all, and then he looks up and gives Poe whatever permission he needs with a nod of his head.

Fingers lock behind his skull, pressing on hard. Kylo surrenders to it, opening his mouth and knowing he can take whatever’s put his way. He has no technique, but Poe starts to hump his face and it takes him all of three ruts before he’s coming, too. Kylo feels it hit the back of his throat and struggles to keep himself from choking, trusting that he won’t, even as his whole breathing apparatus goes into some kind of lockdown. The taste is similar to his own, and then there’s no more to swallow or lick at, and he looks up.

Poe, on the bed, sitting on the edge. Looking absolutely **satisfied** , reaching down to stroke his hair and pull him in for a kiss.

It’s almost a shame they don’t have anything to put on the tree for this. ‘Officially became full on adults and boyfriends and very much worked out that sex with one another is fun’. What did you do to commemorate that? 

Maybe do it some more. 

He licks the taste of them both onto Poe’s tongue, and they cuddle together like that for a while. Eventually Poe pulls Kylo in to lie down on the bed, facing one another, touching gently and smiling

“Still not sure?” Poe asks, with a hint of mischief.  


“I’m sure, alright,” Kylo replies. “You. Me. Forever.”  


“Gotta admit, it’s amazing to hear you say that.”  


“Well. It’s true.”  


Poe grabs his hands, pulls them up to kiss the knuckles. “I know. But it’s still amazing. You… think you can stay the night?”

Kylo shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But…

“One night can’t hurt.” Right? It can’t.  


(Plus, then they can have morning sex, too. If they’re doing this, they’re doing it right. Kylo wonders how many people will be walking this base before long who had to ‘forget’ something they saw. Just a shame he can’t move Poe in with him. Hmm… Maybe some day.) 


End file.
